Incoming call: Emma Swan
by TinkerbellReturns
Summary: It all started with an afternoon of phone sex. But then, things escalated quickly as the Savior's superpowers took their toll on Storybrooke in the most unexpected of ways. To top it all, a contest organized by Belle in the town's library has a group of amateur writers seeking inspiration in a rather unconventional way. Rated MA for explicit language and sexual content.
1. Ch 1: Incoming Call: Emma Swan

**A/N: This chapter is a response to prompt "Swanfire/Swanthief phone sex". Rated MA for explicit language and sexual content. Charming, Snow, Belle and Rumple accidentally hear at least part of it - if you find it too disturbing to mix smut and parents in the same fic, pretend you never saw this. Also, If you have a thing for Neal's scarves - be warned that something happens to one of them in this part of the story.**

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**Chapter 1: Incoming call: Emma Swan**

The weather was nice in Storybrooke. Soft summer breeze blew across the trees, and the clear blue sky seemed to brighten up everyone's mood. People would go outside, have picnics, walk their dogs... In short, the folks of Storybrooke were having a good time.

But not Neal Cassidy.

Emma Swan, his wife, had traveled to Boston in order to run some errands – pay bills, close bank accounts, return her rented apartment, get a van to take all her stuff to their new house. Henry had decided to spend the weekend at Regina's. He was left behind to fool around in his father's shop, and he couldn't think of anything more boring to do than that.

_He was not amused._

He scratched his nose and looked outside the window of his father's office, wondering if the Charmings were on their way. It would still take time for him to get used to having Emma's parents over for tea as often as his father insisted on inviting them, always under the same excuse: that they had business to take care of.

_Bullshit._

Business was never part of their visits. Bickering, yes. Tales as old as time of when he saved Charming from some kind of lethal danger… augmented to such an extent that even Snow had to butt in in order to point out some inaccuracies in his father's accounts. And then, there would be more bickering, until Charming rose to his feet, cursed, threatened to punch the older man in the mouth, promised never to set foot in his shop or house again… only to return the next afternoon, ad engage in the same ritual.

Snow and Belle, who seemed to understand the dynamics of that friendship better than anyone else, would simply let them fight while sipping their tea and planning their next adventure - which, at that moment, consisted of setting up a night of "Erotic Tales at the Library", aimed to promote the town's many anonymous writers.

"I am sure that last one I showed you was written by Archie," Belle had whispered once.

Apparently, her idea of setting up a 'writers' corner' at the reserved room of the Storybrooke's library was paying off. So far, over a dozen stories had been deposited in the little box labeled _'share your tales with the world – what happens in the library, stays in the library!'._

People had surely taken the hint – hence the considerable amount of rather spicy drabbles Belle got to collect from the box every week. And unless she was assuming too much, even the Blue Fairy had made a contribution, if that little sly smile on her lips was to say something the last time she was seen in the library…

In other words, even Reul Ghorm was getting some sort of action, even if it was only… literary.

_Good for her._

He let out a sigh as he fumbled with the scarf around his neck. Why was he wearing a scarf, anyway? It was summer. Bloody hot, sensual, sweaty-bodies-making-out-outside summer.

He wished Emma Swan would come back home.

He missed her.

He shifted his feet, his mind full of memories of her body in her best summer attire: nude. A droplet of sweat was about to run down his temple, and he was very tempted to let his mind slip into that hallucinating state he would soon enter unless he got rid of that suffocating piece of wool wrapped around his neck.

He missed her _a lot._

"Emma…" he whispered, placing his palms on the glass counter as he literally melted into his winter clothes. She had promised to call him that afternoon, and she had insisted he should be wearing that scarf. He had no idea why, but he secretly hoped it was because of something very, very lewd. As a result, he was hot in every sense of the word.

_Stupid scarf. _

And then, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

_Incoming call: Emma Swan_

"Hey babe"

"Hey..."

Funny how a single word from her mouth made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. It was warm and slow, and he knew that tone of voice. Whenever she spoke to him like that, with that silent, and yet very obvious invitation, he knew how it would end.

And the fact she was miles away wouldn't change that.

"How are things?" he asked, wetting his lips as he started creating all sorts of scenarios in his head.

"Fine... You?"

"Been better."

"Yeah... You tell me."

He heard a sigh on the other side of the line, and a smile curled his lips: _she wanted him._ She had called him because _she wanted him_, and in his mind, she was _ready._ She was not sweating buckets because of a scarf, she was not stuck in a dusty, dimly-lit shop: she was naked, lying on a king-size bed, _ready _for him, _waiting_ for him.

"How long 'til you come back?"

"Another week, I guess."

He whimpered, partially because of her answer, and partially because the Charmings had just entered the shop. If there was a time when he absolutely did not want to see his in-laws, it was when he was about to unzip his pants and engage in some hot, dirty phone sex with his wife.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as he moved as silently as possible to the backyard to avoid the crowd gathering in the adjoining room.

"Getting dressed."

"Hmm... Is that so?"

"Where are you?"

He blinked at the rays of sunshine that lit the yard, and tried to find a spot where they could... _talk_ with more comfort.

"Somewhere quiet..." he responded, leaning against the wall that divided the yard from the room where, at that very same moment, Emma's parents had joined his father and Belle for their afternoon tea. "And private."

"Alone?"

"Uh-hum."

He heard his wife let out another sigh, and he knew, _he was absolutely sure,_ that she had started without him. His hands slid down to the fly of his jeans, and he gave his hardening cock a gentle squeeze before speaking again.

"You wearing panties?"

"The fuck, Neal?"

"What?"

"You used to be better at phone sex."

"Go easy on me, baby," he whispered, trying not to laugh at her angered reaction as he pushed down the rim of his boxers and pulled out his shaft to lazily stroke himself. "It's been eleven years…"

"Yeah... I'll let this one slide. Missing me?"

"A lot. Can't wait til you come home."

"What for?"

"You wearing panties?"

"Oh come on!"

"Are you?"

"I'm not, but honestly? I see that very soon I'll be."

"No you won't..."

"I will..."

"Not when you're all wet for me..."

"Who says I'm wet?"

"_I _say it. It's my voice. It never fails."

He could hear her giggle on the other side of the line, and the way her breath came out in little gasps as she laughed made his cock jump in his hand, shivers going up and down his spine.

"I know it turns you on."

"So confident..."

"Missing me?"

"Maybe..."

"You really won't make this easy, will you?"

"Of course not," she whispered, her voice a little more throaty than before. "You hard?"

"Should I be?"

"You son of …"

"Course I'm hard."

He bit his lip, his grip on his shaft tightening as he spoke.

"I wake up every morning thinking of you, Emma…" he whispered, letting her name linger on his lips, knowing that she loved hearing it. "Hard as fuck… like now."

"Go on."

"I need you, Emma."

There was no response, but the way her breath seemed to be getting heavier was enough to trigger a series of very powerful images inside his mind.

"I want you."

Her fingers gliding up and down her folds, in circles, her eyes tightly shut, her back arching as she pleasured herself thinking of him, shuddering at his voice.

"I wanna go down on you…" he whispered, and his heart pounded faster when he remembered her taste, when he remembered the last time he had made her come in his

mouth. "And then fuck you… again… and again."

She was still silent, though her breath had quickened.

"I'm gonna make you cum so hard..."

"Yeah, fuck me…"

Her voice was so loaded with lust and need that his cock swelled even more under his grip, and a strangled moan escaped his lips.

"Can you feel it moving inside you?"

"Fuck yeah…"

"You're so tight, baby… so hot…" he muttered, his strokes becoming faster as he thought of her warmth, of her wet walls wrapped around him as he held the back of her thighs. "I'm gonna fill you with my seed."

"Fuck Neal… I'm so wet for you… throbbing… I want you."

"I'm gonna lick all your juice, baby… Gonna fuck you with my tongue… you like that, don't you?"

"Oh yeah… fuck yeah… Oh God Neal…"

"Gonna lick your bud… then suck it..."

"I wanna suck your cock… want it in my mouth…"

"Yeah… my dick is all wet, Emma," he moaned, as he smeared the glistening droplets of precum from the tip of his cock all the way to his balls. "It twitches every time I hear your voice, every time I think of your mouth…"

"I want it inside my mouth… til the head is in my throat."

"Fuck, Emma..."

"Pulling you in… Fuck my mouth, Neal."

He humped faster into his own hand, biting his lip as he imagined her tongue lavishing his cock, flicking over the sensitive spot under the head, kissing his length as he plunged in and out of her mouth.

"I wanna swallow your seed."

"It's all yours, baby."

And then, just when he was starting to feel the familiar tingle in his balls that announced he was about to peak, her breath and quiet moans ceased.

"Emma?" he asked, his hand stopping halfway up his shaft as he frowned. "Emma?"

"Wait… I'm trying to find something here."

"_What?_ Are you... are you _kidding _me?"

"Stop whining, Neal."

"I can't believe this! What the hell you're looking for?"

"Click on accept."

"What?"

"Click on speaker, then on accept."

It took a moment for him to realize what she was talking about.

_'Emma Swan would like to FaceTime,' _read the message on the screen of his cell phone.

When he followed her instructions, he gasped: all of a sudden, he was staring at his own face, his eyes as wide as two saucers, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his face tinted with pink from the arousal and the suffocating heat of the scarf.

He was about to complain that he was not exactly pleased with that addition to their little escapade, when his face was reduced to a tiny square and replaced by an image that made his jaw drop.

"There, happy now?"

"Oh shit," he muttered, his mouth going dry as his heart attempted to burst out of his chest. "Holy shit, Emma, what?"

Behind the wall, Charming frowned as the other three people around him engaged in cheerful conversation. He could swear he had heard his daughter's voice somewhere near them.

And he was not alone. Rumplestiltskin had heard it as well. With a similar frown, the older man pulled back the curtains that covered the small window with a view to the yard to check where that voice had come from.

"Did you hear that?" Emma's father asked.

Before answering, though, Rumplestiltskin's gaze searched the yard for a second, until he spotted Baelfire leaning against the wall, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized what his beloved son was doing.

"What?" Charming asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing," the older man replied, after pulling back the drapes with a snicker. "It's my son, talking on the phone." He paused, and took another sip of his tea. "I bet we heard Emma's voice because she's very amused with their... _conversation._"

Charming, however, didn't seem to be convinced.

"He's very good at that," Rumplestiltskin added, with a proud wink. "It runs in the family."

After rolling his eyes, Emma's father finally resorted to sipping his tea as well, trying to focus on what his wife was saying while the older man across from him seemed intent on speaking louder than anyone else in the room.

Outside, Neal Cassidy was hyperventilating as he stared into his phone screen.

"You're drooling, Neal."

Of course he was drooling, and he couldn't possibly care less. His eyes followed the movement of her fingers as they slid in and out of her dripping wet hole, her black nails slowly coming into view when she moved her digits up her slit to rub her swollen clit.

"Can you… Can you see me?" he stuttered, unable to articulate a better question.

"Your face, yes," she panted. "My God Neal, why are you wearing a scarf? It's summer!"

"B-Because you asked me to."

"I asked you to _bring_ a scarf, not to _wear_ it."

He could ask for an explanation, but at that point, it didn't matter. Nothing did, really, not even the fact his sweat-soaked shirt was clinging to his back.

All that mattered was that he was hard as steel, staring into her sex as he neared his climax.

"I wanna see you wanking for me."

His trembling hand lowered the phone to his crotch as he stroked himself faster, feeling his balls tighten as her fingers again delved deep into her, making more of her juices flow.

"Oh my God… Fucking... holy fuck..." he panted amidst moans. "Emma, this is insane…"

"Wait," inside the room, Charming tried to silence the others for the eleventh time, although Rumplestiltskin seemed to cackle louder and bring up another topic for conversation every time he did so. "Did you hear that?"

"Charming, they are _talking on the phone,_" the older man snarled, clearly losing his patience with the other man's paranoia.

"No, they are _not_," Charming replied, rising to his feet and getting ready to head outside. "What I heard does not sound like _talking_, not at all."

Rumplestiltskin, though, had also sprung up from his chair, and before Charming got to witness his son's leisurely moment under the sun, he lunged forward and, after deliberately losing his balance, spilled his tea all over the other man.

"What the hell is your problem?" Emma's father yelled, jumping backwards.

In the yard, Neal would have certainly noticed there was something going on in the room behind him, if only he were not entirely lost in a universe of pink as he panted and writhed and wanked furiously with his cell phone a mere foot away from his erection.

"You're dripping, baby… Fucking dripping…"

"Cum for me, Neal…"

"Oh yeah…"

"Fill me with your fucking cum…"

"Oh fuck Emma… I'm gonna cum!"

"Cum in your scarf."

_"What?"_

"The scarf, Neal, use your scarf."

He panicked for a moment. He only had two hands: one of them was busy with his throbbing cock, the other was holding the phone. Unless a third one popped out of somewhere, he would never be able to get his scarf in time.

After a moment of hesitation, he chose to let go of his erection while still holding the phone, and removed the scarf from his neck in such a hurry he nearly strangled himself.

As soon as the wool brushed against the tip of his cock, he felt a first spurt of semen being forced out of his body, followed by at least half a dozen of others just as strong. He was sure he had wailed as he came, his voice mingling with Emma's moans, and for the first time he considered the possibility that the people inside the shop might have actually heard them.

"My turn now."

Unaware of the precarious situation her husband found himself in, Emma Swan was getting ready for her grand finale as well.

"Let me see your face."

He raised the camera to his head, keeping it at an arm's distance from his face.

"I love your smile, Neal...you know that?"

His grin widened at her words. He was still trying to catch his breath and his whole body was covered in sweat, but the way she said his name made a new wave of shivers sweep his body.

"My God this is so freaking wrong…" he chuckled, although his eyes were still hungry and very, _very _serious as he stared into her folds.

"Lick me, Neal… Make me cum… in your mouth…"

"I'm licking you baby… you're so hot…"

"Fuck yeah, Neal... yeah baby..."

Charming had just accepted to take a seat again after Rumplestiltskin lent him another shirt, and exactly when they were all silent for the first time that afternoon... exactly when he had just taken a sip from his already cold tea...

He heard Emma's voice again.

And so did all the others in the room.

"FUCK NEAL OH... MY... GOD!"

There was tea coming out of his nostrils when he stood up and marched towards the yard, swiping the phone from Neal's hands while still choking profusely.

And Neal's jaw dropped not for the first time that afternoon.

All of a sudden, Chariots of Fire started playing inside his head and he saw everything in slow motion: behind him, he could see his father outstretching his arms in an attempt to stop the inevitable... in front of him, Charming was slowly turning his head to look at the phone he was clutching in his angry fatherly hand.

If he had another second to spare, he would have glanced down at his lap to make sure he had zipped himself up properly - something he was not sure he had done - before he jumped into action, but even that did not matter anymore.

What Charming was about to see in that phone would likely scar him for life.

He had to do something, quickly.

_Anything._

And so, he did the only thing that crossed his foggy mind: he tackled his father-in-law to the ground, and saw the cell phone bounce away and land a foot away from Charming's arm.

"EMMA TURN OFF THE CAMERA!" he yelled, as he forced Charming's face in the opposite direction.

"Get... your... filthy haand... out of my face!" the man snarled, trying to reach for the phone as he struggled to break free from his grasp. "I know what you were doing!"

"I am left-handed!"

"No you're not!" Charming spat out. "I saw you fighting, you hold your sword with your... sticky... right hand!"

"Not _this_ sword!"

The blond man was ready to rant on, but that statement gave him pause.

"I know," Neal gasped, realizing the frown in his father-in-law's face. "I find it strange too!"

Charming blinked, and seemed to ponder for a moment, as if reviewing his own skills with the sword.

Or _swords_, as it was.

Neal, realizing that was his chance to put an end to that ridiculous scene, quickly threw his body to the side and grabbed the phone, only to find a hysterical Emma Swan yelling at him from the other side of the line.

"... my father? NEAL! Talk to me! Was that MY FATHER?"

"Yes, Emma, that was your father," he said, letting out a relieved sigh when he saw the camera was off, though the phone was still on the speaker.

"Neal, where THE FUCK are you?"

"In the yard... of my father's shop," he whimpered, covering his eyes as if to protect himself from his wife's rage.

"And my PARENTS are there?"

"Th-"

"Did you KNOW they were there?"

"Yes, bu-"

"You told me you were somewhere quiet and private!"

"And I was!" he exclaimed. "'Til your father walked in on us."

Charming had already risen to his feet, and was now glaring daggers at him. He slowly stood up as well, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.

He frowned.

_Actually, no._ That had happened to him twice before, and coming to think of it... he would rather deal with all the awkwardness of that moment than go through a portal again.

"Well," he heard Emma whisper. "At least now he knows what it feels like."

He raised his eyebrows in shock, and suddenly all eyes shifted from him to Charming.

"What?" Rumplestiltskin snorted. "You let your 28-year-old daughter walk in on you?"

"Hey, y-"

"No, seriously," the older man snarled. "And you're still trying to teach my son a lesson?"

"It's not as if I hadn't almost walked in on you and Belle as well," Neal muttered, looking at the ground as he stuffed one of his hands into his pocket.

"Yes, son, you _almost _did," Rumplestiltskin replied, flourishing his hands proudly as he spoke. "But you never _actually _did. And that makes _all _the difference."

"I swear I can't believe you and I are part of the same family," Charming barked, now aiming his poisonous look at his long-term rival.

"Ooh," Neal saw his father exclaim, in another display of disdain. "I would love to keep the conversational ball rolling, Charming, but I am getting a phone call myself."

He pressed a button on his cell phone, and turned his back to the other people in the yard.

"Hello? Yes? Belle! What a pleasant surprise, my sweet, most enchanting wife!"

"Oh, you have to be kidding!" Charming ranted, finally realizing that Belle had not joined them in the yard, and apparently found the whole situation rather amusing. "I am DONE with you Tiltskins!"

And with that final outburst of rage, he marched past Rumplestiltskin and headed to the exit, his ears as pink as the shirt he was wearing.

Snow made to follow him, but stopped dead on her tracks and turned to look at her son-in-law before leaving the shop as well.

"Send Emma all my love?" she muttered, her chin trembling as she struggled not to laugh.

"I can hear you, mum..."

"Oh," she said, blushing a little. "Well, then. Take care."

And then she started walking again - just to stop after two or three steps.

"And... I promise your father and I will be more..._ careful_ next time," she whispered, and Neal could swear he heard giggles as she walked past the door.

"Did you seriously walk in on your parents... doing the do?" he asked, after turning the speaker off and taking the phone to his ear.

"I seriously did."

"At least now you're even... Sort of."

"Pretty much. Uhm, Neal?"

"Yes?"

"Will you be angry if I say I... kinda lied to you?"

His heart sunk at her words, but he tried to keep his cool.

"Lied to me? What about?"

"Can you turn the camera on again?"

He scratched his nose and cleared his throat, trying not to let his anxiety show. _She had lied to him... _Goodness grief, couldn't they have a moment of peace?

"I told you I would only be back next week, but..."

When her face showed up on the screen, he felt his heart race. He never got tired of those eyes, that mouth... even when she was about to break bad news, biting her bottom lip with that guilty look on her face...

Then the camera shifted around, and he saw a dreamcatcher hanging on the wall by the window...

"Aw hell no..." he whispered.

"I am actually in our bed, as we speak," she said, smiling at him as she brought the camera back to her face. "Only two blocks away from where you are now..."

Emma Swan must have found it strange when all of a sudden, she found herself staring at the blue sky above.

"Neal?" she asked.

There was no response.

"Neal?"

In Storybrooke's main road, some people laughed and pointed at the man running as he struggled to get rid of his shirt with a maniac smile on his face, his phone long forgotten under the sun, in the backyard of his father's shop.


	2. Chapter 2: Magic is Coming

**Summary: He is married to the sheriff. The sheriff... is his wife. Why not play a little game? Prompted by Schmacky, in which Neal has a... thing for handcuffs. Things escalate quickly, though, as once again the Savior's superpowers take their toll on Storybrooke, and a group of friends watch it all from a privileged spot on the hills. **

**Warning: explicit sexual content ahead. Leave while you still can!**

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**_Chapter 2: Magic is coming_**

When her husband arrived home, slamming the door shut as he hurried upstairs, Emma Swan was still sitting on their bed, looking at the TV with a frown.

_It had happened again._

What exactly was she doing wrong? This time, she had barely gotten there, thanks to Neal's clumsy attempt to get some privacy in his father's shop, and yet, the smoke coming out of the flat television screen reminded her that yes: she had made another casualty.

She needed to get her magic under control.

The door was flung open, and from behind it, a panting Neal Cassidy made himself visible, wearing nothing but his boxers.

"Please," she smiled, her eyes dancing from his chest to his legs playfully. "Don't tell me you ran around town with no clothes on."

He chuckled before kicking the door shut with his heel and walking gingerly toward the bed.

"Why, would that be a problem..." he asked, tilting his head with a smug look on his eyes, "...sheriff?"

His eyes sparkled when he pronounced that last word. What a naughty, naughty husband she had. Probably a vestige from his days as a thief: a secret desire to be punished for his past life of crime, for letting her go to prison? It didn't actually matter; the truth was that she had decided to play along.

"Well, it could be considered public indecency," she replied, kneeling on the bed as she reached behind her back, wearing nothing but one of his shirts.

"Has anyone pressed charges?" he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper as he climbed onto the bed and crawled towards her.

"Not yet, but still... I think I'll need to get you under arrest."

And then, he saw them. Two pairs of handcuffs, hanging from both of her index fingers.

He must have looked like a maniac, his lips parted as he panted, eyes darting from her hands to her legs and then to the handcuffs. He was married to the sheriff. The sheriff... was _his wife_. And his wife, _the sheriff_, was going to handcuff him to their bed and fuck him senseless, and the whole town would know how she enjoyed every single moment of it.

The blackout in Storybrooke in the night of their honeymoon, after all, hadn't been a mere coincidence, he later found out. Before that, the washing machine turning itself on in the basement while he and Emma enjoyed some... quality time together should have clued him in. Emma Swan had magic. _A lot of it._ And apparently, her magic was powerful enough to mess with electronic appliances and the power distribution system of an entire town. Not all the time, of course. Only when she was exceptionally... _happy_.

"And wait, there is more..." he heard her say while his lips made their way up her neck. "There, now I'm ready."

He lowered his eyes to where her hands were, and found a golden star pinned to her chest. He couldn't help but smile: she was taking their ropleplaying moment seriously. And so would he, then: showing that he really had no problems challenging authority, he covered her body with his and pinned her to the mattress.

"You know your rights, don't you?" she muttered, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed kisses over her shoulder, his fingers venturing under the shirt to feel her skin.

"I don't think I do, sheriff..." he replied under his breath, a smirk curling his lips at the serious facade she was trying to put up. "Care to read them for me?"

"You have the right to remain aroused..."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she burst into laughter, and so did he, as he undid the buttons of her - or rather, his - shirt.

"This is a very, very lame line when you say it aloud," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair as his mouth left a trail of soft kisses on her collarbone, moving down to brush against the sides of her breasts.

And then, he heard a familiar buzzing noise from the light bulb above them.

_First warning sign._

"Neal..."

When he looked up, he saw her staring at the ceiling with an unmistakable trace of concern in her eyes.

"It's okay, babe..." he whispered.

It was, really. He would gladly replace the light bulb, the other lamps, all the appliances in their house... it was a price worth paying if that meant Emma Swan, his wife, his _sheriff_, was fully pleased with their sessions of lovemaking.

His hand started its journey up her inner thigh as he cupped the back of her head and pulled her mouth to his, her lips parting to welcome his tongue as his fingers brushed gently against her sex...

_'Now I'm never gonna dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm... though it's easy to pretend, I know you're not a foooooooool...'_

She broke the kiss, startled at the music that had started blaring from the clock radio on the nightstand.

"Oh, come on..."

He ignored her complaint, and blindly reached over for the radio to disconnect it from the wall and throw it on the floor as he tried to take off her shirt with the other hand.

"Neal, stop," she whimpered, trying to escape his sex-crazed hold. "Wait, _wait!_"

"What?" he asked, his face slightly flushed as he finally looked up.

"I... The TV, I..."

He turned his head to the opposite wall, and only then did he realize the smoke coming out of the screen. Of course, he should have known. After all, hadn't it been for Charming's inconvenient participation in their phone conversation...

"If it was only the TV, you're getting better," he said, after accidentally letting out a chuckle.

That was enough to cause his wife to frown and hit him hard on the shoulder, pushing him away.

"This is not funny, Neal!" she said, a second before standing up and walking towards the window.

It wasn't. He knew it wasn't. Burning newly bought LED TVs was not funny, let alone leaving an entire town in the dark for some minutes because you couldn't control your own... _powers_. It was a surprise she hadn't set the curtains on fire, as she had done when the two of them had sneaked out of a family reunion to have a little fun in his father's bedroom. And he had to concede his old man had dealt with his late teenage antics remarkably well, by explaining to a very suspicious Charming that they could blame the incident on his terrible habit of lighting candles near the window. Not that he actually _had_ to explain anything to Emma's father: Neal was married to her, after all. What did the man expect? Celibacy? Neal understood, though, that at the very least Charming was still trying to come to terms with the fact his "little girl" was actually a fully grown woman… with a very active sex life.

He got up as well, taking a moment to stare down at the huge bulge in his boxers before joining his wife by the window. Overall, he had to concede their situation was no laughing matter. Well... at least, not for Emma. Because for him... how could he not find it all amusing? Other men could do nothing but wonder if the moans and groans and "Oh, yeah!"s meant "Yes, please don't stop!" or "Just get this over and done with because I'm missing my favorite TV show".

Yet he, Neal Cassidy, knew at every burnt lamp in their room, every flicker of light and shattered light bulb, that his wife had enjoyed their carnal encounters just as much as he had.

And as a matter of fact, such would be the assumption of the entire town every time something unusual happened.

"Oh no! The son of Rumplestiltskin and the Savior are going at it again!" complained one of the villagers as he punched his TV set, after the images of a soccer match were replaced by electrostatic.

"Tell Mr. Cassidy to slow it down, will he?" said another one, cursing as her china tittered on the shelves as the ground shook slightly under her feet after a truck drove by the main street.

"What do you mean, she was all by herself?" shrieked a couple of others, holding candles after the latest blackout.

Truth was, in most cases, Emma's powers had nothing to do with such misfortunes. How it had become public knowledge that their moments of intimacy could result in such... intense events, remained a mystery.

"It's okay, baby..." he whispered, rubbing her arms softly as he pulled her hair to the side. "Maybe we should just take it slowly... like, _really_ slowly..."

He kept massaging her shoulders as he breathed onto her neck, seeing her head loll to the side as she closed her eyes.

She had only spent a week away, and he knew that one week should be nothing compared to the eleven years of absence they had endured. But _exactly_ because they had over a decade of pent-up want, now that they were finally together there was far too much to catch up on... She let out a sigh, and when she did, he couldn't help but smile as he stole a quick glance towards the window.

Actually, he loved the whole idea of everyone knowing Emma was very pleased with her sex life, thank you very much, and he knew it was all her own merit. Still, as a husband, he took certain pride is contributing to many of her very loud, messy, magic-charged epiphanies.

"I don't want to hurt you..." he heard her whisper, while her fingertips gently reached behind her to touch his waist.

"Me? How would you hurt me?"

"I don't know..." she turned around, pouting with a frown as she ran her hands up his chest. "But what if... What if I _burn _you?"

"Emma..." he chuckled at her concern.

"I'm serious, Neal! I could... _electrocute_ you! I don't know how this works!"

For a moment, he felt his heart break a little. She was worried sick that such a thing could actually happen.

"Emma, love, listen..." he said, holding her head in his hands. "You are not gonna hurt me, okay?"

"How do you know that?"

"I just know. You are not gonna hurt me, you're not gonna hurt anyone."

"But-"

"Your magic is not evil, Emma. It's powerful. And once you get it under control-"

"See, that is the problem," she replied, breaking free from his hold and walking back to bed. "It's getting worse, Neal. I'm nowhere near controlling it as I was before!"

"Look, let's do this. We try to take it slow this time, see what happens. If anything goes wrong... we look for help, okay?"

He stopped a few inches away from her on the bed, and saw her eyes shift from his face to his groin.

"Hmm?"

"You promise?" she whispered, reaching for the rim of his underwear as she licked her lips, sitting at the edge of the bed as he took one step closer.

"I do."

The two of them smiled when his erection broke free of its fabric constraints, straining against his belly as she slid his boxers down his legs.

"I think you were saying something about... _pressing charges?_" he said, biting his lip as she stroked him, shivers going up and down his spine.

"Oh, yeah... I was indeed," she said, staring into his eyes as she moved backwards on the bed, dragging him along.

"Am I in trouble?"

"You bet you are..."

He crawled to the center of the bed, where she flung her legs over his torso and held his head on her hands.

"You have been a very, very naughty man, Mr. Cassidy," she whispered into his ear, before tickling it with her tongue.

"Oh..."

So much for convincing roleplay! But then, he had to cut himself some slack. He was quite sure any prisoner in his situation would be incapable of elaborate speech as well.

"'Oh'? Is that all you have to say in you defense?" she asked, her mouth gliding along his jaw as she rubbed her groin against his, her teeth catching his lower lip between them.

"N-No..." he managed to stutter.

"Well, then..." she said, lifting one of his arms and taking his fingers to her lips to suck lightly on one of them, "I think I'll have to interrogate you."

"Holy fuck..."

"But because I think you are a very dangerous criminal..." she went on, again whispering into his ear as she brought one of his arms closer to the bed head. "I will have to _handcuff _you."

He felt the muscles in his stomach clench and release as he heard the click of the handcuffs above his head, closing around one of his wrists and then, the other. The grin on his face was probably the most asinine he had ever displayed, and he couldn't possibly care less.

"What you laughing at?" she snarled, her face suddenly very serious as she straddled him.

"I'm... I'm sorry, sheriff."

He swallowed his urge to chuckle, and brought his mind back to the game. He was a very dangerous criminal. She was the sheriff. He was a very naughty, _dangerous_ criminal.

_"Roooar!"_

"The hell was that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she picked up a small bowl from the nightstand.

"Sorry," he muttered, blushing at his ridiculous performance. What did he think he was, a caged lion?

_How embarrassing._

"I think it's time you took things seriously, Mr. Cassidy..."

And then, he felt something warm and gooey being dripped on his chest.

"What's that?" he asked, all of a sudden realizing he might have ended up crossing the path of a somewhat abusive officer.

"I ask the questions here," she replied, using a craft stick to spread something that smelled a lot like honey over his skin. "But just so you know... You will be waxed."

It took him some time for his brain to process what he had heard.

Waxed... waxed... _waxed?_

_"What?"_ he shrieked, when realization finally hit him. "You're joking, right?"

"I am not."

"What kind of sheriff waxes prisoners, of all things?"

"A very... very, very kinky one," she replied, biting the tip of her tongue with one of the most mischievous smiles he had ever seen on her lips. "If you cooperate... you will be rewarded very generously," she continued, covering the strip on his chest with a piece of cloth. "You ready?"

"Jesus Christ..." he muttered, his eyes darting from his chest to her hands.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"What was the question again?"

"Are... you... _ready?_"

She made sure to stress every word, her eyes lighting up at his obvious fear. Who was that woman and what had he done with his wife?

_'Well... Didn't you want the sheriff in your bed? There she is...' _his mind reminded him.

_'The sheriff, yes! Not a psycho!'_ another voice inside his head replied.

_'It's just wax, chill out...'_

"Y-Yes..." he replied, before his concerns got the best out of him.

"I'm going to ask a few questions... And you will reply with, guilty, or not guilty. Nothing more than that. Okay?"

"Okay."

"If you confess, I might be lenient with your sentence," as she spoke, she made sure to press soft kisses along his jaw line, until her lips reached his collarbone, while her hand wandered south to grab his cock and give it a couple of strokes. "But if you lie..." and then, she stopped, and took her hand back to the strip of cloth on his chest, giving it a gentle tug that made him wince. "I can make this hurt much more than it should. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"OK," she said, giving him a final kiss on the lips as he smirked, much more comfortable with the prospect of getting tortured. "You let Pinocchio talk you into leaving me."

In a matter of seconds, the smile on his lips was replaced by an unhappy frown.

"Oh, no, Emma... Not this ag-"

"Guilty," she interrupted, grabbing the edge of the piece of fabric, "...or not guilty?"

He swallowed, trying to look away but quickly realizing how dire his situation was. Not only was he handcuffed to a bed, which meant he couldn't simply invent an excuse and walk away, but now he had a strip of wax glued to his chest, which meant, in short, that he would suffer anyway. No point explaining, then, or making that little game last longer than it should. Besides, it couldn't hurt that much.

It was just wax.

"Guilty."

He had barely finished saying that word when she pulled off the strip, and he felt his skin was on fire. He almost choked on his tongue, his male pride making him swallow a cry of pain as tears welled up in his eyes.

"Then, eleven years later," she said, spreading more wax on his chest, and this time covering a much wider area. "You got engaged to another woman instead of looking for me."

"G-Guilty."

He had an instant to study her face and see her eyebrows go up before the cloth was ripped away from his chest.

"Oh my... _Fuck!"_ he yelled, between gritted teeth.

"And you gave her a diamond ring, didn't you?"

More wax.

"NO! No, Emma, wait!" he screamed, at the very exact moment she placed another piece of fabric over his skin. "Not guilty, _not guilty!_ She bought the ring herself!"

"Oh did she?"

"Yeah, I didn't make that much money..."

"By the way, did you have a job before... I found you?"

"Yeah... Tamara got me this jo-"

More tears rose to his eyes when she pulled off another strip, and either she was making it hurt more than it should, or she had just reached a particular sensitive spot of his chest.

"And then you brought her to Storybrooke..."

This time, she didn't even wait for him to reply to pull off the strip she had placed on him.

"And you didn't believe me when I told you to watch out..."

_Again._

"And you kissed her in front of me..."

"_She_ kissed _me_!" he managed to blurt out, and by that time a tear had already escaped the corner of his eye despite his brave efforts to hide how painful the whole procedure was.

"Guilty or not guilty?" she hissed, pulling off two strips at the same time.

"GUILTY!" he screamed in response, feeling his whole chest throb. "I'm sorry! I'm guilty, _guilty!_ Guilty of all charges!"

A sob escaped his throat, and he was not sure it was a result of the excruciating pain spreading towards his ribs or the amount of information he had been forced to review in the last few minutes.

"Just… just do what you have to do."

As he said it, he was fully aware that at that point his chances of being sentenced to "death by orgasm" or anything of the sort were slim. She was biting her tongue again, looking thoroughly pleased with herself, and that could only mean one thing.

_She was far from done with him._

"How about…" she said, reaching for a couple of wet wipes on the nightstand, "a bikini wax?"

"B-Bikini?"

For a moment, he glanced down at himself and tried to check his nether parts. He always made sure to take very good care of that department, but if she still thought he needed improvement…

"Do you think I need one?"

Sometimes, she had a hard time believing that man really existed.

"Oh my God, Neal!" she choked, laughter rattling inside her chest.

"What?"

"Are you… are you even _serious?_"

"I don't know! Are _you?_"

His face was almost as amused as hers. To think that only a few minutes ago he was literally writhing in pain.

"Geez!" she muttered, wiping away happy tears with the back of her hand as she cleaned up the remnants of wax from his chest.

"What?"

"Do you really think I would wax you… _down there?_"

"Well, I never thought you would wax _any_ part of my body," he replied, a smirk curling his lips as he watched her hands reach for a small bottle on the bed. "I don't even know what to expect anymore!"

"You're unbelievable..."

She clicked the bottle open and squeezed its contents over his chest, studying his face as she waited for the inevitable sigh of relief the refreshing lotion would elicit once it touched his reddish skin.

"Oh God, that feels good…" he moaned, his muscles relaxing under her legs.

"Does it?"

"Yeah."

"Does that count as a generous reward?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she ground her hips against his.

"Absolutely not," he said, with his eyes closed. "I trust you to exceed my expectations, sheriff."

"Any particular requests?"

"No more wax."

"Fine," she giggled. "I can live with that."

His skin felt slick under her touch, slightly cooler and less irritated than before, and she smiled as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips before letting her shirt slide off her arms. Her erect nipples stood out, rubbing slightly against his chest as her hips kept pressing against his, the lights above their heads flickering at every moan.

Who needed light bulbs and lamps in broad daylight, anyway.

"I have to close the window," she whispered, as he nibbled her lower lip.

"No you don't," he replied, clearly not taking kindly to the idea of her body disengaging from his. "We live across from a hill, there's no one out there."

She stole a quick glance outside, and saw he had a point, apparently.

In a way, she rather enjoyed seeing him helplessly subject to her moves, her rhythm, unable to touch her, to grab her hair and bite her shoulder like she knew he wanted to. Still, she missed his hands all over her body, his fingers digging into her flesh, teasing her…

_Life and its little dilemmas._

She let her body slide along his, soothing the sensitive skin of his chest as she breathed onto it, her lips brushing against his stomach until her chin was on his groin, and then lower…

"Oh yeah… Fuck yeah."

He shuddered when her tongue moved all the way up his shaft in a long, soft lick that covered all his length, her eyes locking with his as she took the tip of his cock into her mouth.

"Yeah, baby…"

She cupped his balls with a smile, her other hand going up and down his throbbing erection as she licked her lips, an instant before sucking him again.

"Emma?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think you can… you know…"

"What?" she said, raising her head to look at him.

"Come closer?"

"As in…?"

"As in… _closer to my mouth._"

Her eyebrows went up for a second after she realized what he was planning to do.

"Oh!"

"_'Oh!'_" he repeated, rolling his eyes as he imitated her. "Honestly, woman!"

"Do you want me to unlock the handcuffs?" she asked, moving from between his legs to sit by his side on the bed.

"Your call. Do you want me to _use _my hands?"

She couldn't help but giggle. There were times when that man made her feel like a teenager again, and she felt horribly embarrassed by that.

"Question is…" she replied, getting the keys from the nightstand with a smirk. "How well to you plan to use them?"

"Well enough."

_Horny bastard._

"I guess you only need one to show me your skills," she whispered, releasing one of his arms while the other remained handcuffed to the bed.

"Fine with me."

One hand was, indeed, the only thing he needed to arrange her legs around him as he lodged his head between her thighs, his warm breath on her skin making her shudder in anticipation. Before she knew, her breath had quickened as he covered her inner thighs with tentative licks, biting and kissing the sensitive skin a mere inch away from her folds.

And then, the wind blew stronger than ever, knocking out a lamp from the nightstand.

"Was that me?" she asked, her head shooting up in fear as her hand froze midway up his shaft.

"What?"

"The wind?"

"What wind?"

"Neal!"

"Emma!"

She barely had time to whip her head around and slap him for treating the whole matter like a joke when she felt him parting her inner lips with his fingers, his tongue probing her entrance.

Her eyes rolled back into her head as her hands rested on his thighs, and after a long minute reveling in the sensations raiding her body, she finally remembered she was supposed to give him some attention as well. But then, who could blame her for being distracted?

She felt him gasping onto her folds when she guided the tip of his cock into her mouth, sucking lightly on the tip, letting her tongue tease the slit to savor his precum before swallowing him, sucking more fiercely until the muscles on his thighs were clenching, his hips thrusting upwards to match her moves.

It was his turn to get distracted.

"Neal?" she giggled, from under her breath, when all she could feel was his shallow breathing on her skin.

"Sorry, baby," he whispered. "I just love your mouth."

She thought of saying that she loved his too, but before she had the chance to do so, he was sucking on her clit to redeem himself, and her nails dug into his thighs as a very loud moan escaped her throat.

He was lucky he couldn't see her eyes at that moment, because they were filled with what he hated the most in the whole world.

_Magic._

"Oh… my… God…" she hissed, gripping his cock and moving her hand up and down faster, feeling her heart racing, her climax so much closer…

"Yeah, Emma…" she heard him say, as he slipped a finger into her dripping wet hole, and then another. "Cum for me, baby…"

_'Just think of something else, just think of something else…'_ she told herself mentally, squeezing her eyes shut as his fingers worked a magic of their own on her. _'You're at the beach, just relaxing and doing nothing… at the beach… palm trees… the ocean…'_

He kept kissing her sex as her muscles undulated under his touch, unaware of what was going on in her mind, and of anything else happening around them, for that matter. His eyes were also shut, and it was almost as if he were somewhere else entirely… breeze blowing across his heated body as waves crashed on the shore… the sun right above him… the smell of the sea… It was almost as if he could feel the sand on his skin as well.

Actually, he could _really _feel sand on his skin.

More precisely, under his body.

When he opened his eyes, he understood why.

Palm trees. Waves. Seagulls.

"What?" he muttered, his eyes wide as he looked around. "What is this?"

His mind was still fuzzy as she he felt her stomach glide along his chest, rocking her hips lazily as she panted, her head lolling to the side. Although the sight of his beautiful wife so lost in her own pleasure was one that always gave him chills, this time panic trumped his enthusiasm.

The bedroom was gone. No walls, no bed, his arm handcuffed to a beach umbrella instead. Only God knew where they were, but it certainly wasn't Storybrooke! What if they never made it back home, to their family, to their son? What if she actually transported the whole town to an island in the Caribbean? What if she _had already_ done so? Oh no… He couldn't stand the idea of being rescued by Hook again! He had had enough of the Jolly Roger for an entire lifetime! And he didn't want Emma to sail with Captain Hot Pants either!

"Emma…" he whispered, as he reached for her waist and squeezed it gently. "Emma, baby, open your eyes."

He felt her body tense up for a moment, and then, her head shot up and she looked around in a frenzy.

"On my God, Neal!"

"It's okay, it's fine…" he said, holding her arm as she rolled to the side, covering her mouth in shock. "Look, it's back, the room is back."

"Wha-"

"We're fine."

"Neal…"

"You didn't hurt anyone, it was just… some sort of conjuring trick, okay?"

He could see it in her face that she was not entirely convinced by that argument, but apparently there was enough lust in her bloodstream for her to ignore sensible thinking and let him roll her on her stomach as he kneeled between her legs. That handcuffed wrist was certainly not helping, but luckily for him, the sheriff was gracious enough to literally lend a hand as he lifted her hips and helped her kneel while trying to bring both her wrists to the bed head.

"Are you really going to handcuff me?" she asked, smiling as he searched around for the spare pair of handcuffs. "How dare you?"

"That's what happens when you let your guard down..." he replied, biting his lower lip as she handcuffed both of her wrists to the bed, pressing wet kisses all over her shoulders, "_…sheriff_."

From the corner of his eye, he could see her smirking at him, her chest heaving up and down as she parted her legs, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

"I'm gonna fuck you until you come all over my cock," he whispered into her ear, before biting her neck, eliciting moans as his free hand squeezed her breast, his fingers teasing her nipple as he positioned himself behind her.

"Too much talk… Mr. Cassidy."

He chuckled onto her skin: there was not another person in that world - or the next - who knew how to push his buttons like Emma Swan did. His blood was boiling, his head spinning again as he guided himself into her, sliding his throbbing shaft up her hole with a long, smooth stroke, feeling her open up to him to squeeze him tightly when he was all the way in, just to release him a second later to let him slide out.

"Fuck, Emma…" he managed to say, his breath uneven as he increased her tempo, "you feel so fucking good…"

He saw her open her mouth to respond, but her words had apparently gotten lost in her throat, and all that left her mouth was a chain of moans and gasps.

Which, of course, only turned him on even more.

He used his free arm to get her into a semi-headlock, his forearm pressing against her neck just enough to tilt her head upwards as he plunged hard into her.

Every time he was inside her, every time he touched her skin, smelled her hair… he couldn't help but remember the first time they made love, in the backseat of their bug, struggling to find a position comfortable enough for the two of them, worried sick about doing a good job, at times failing miserably. She had laughed multiple times, he had too: the awkwardness of two bodies still not used to each other, still trying to find each other's sweet spots.

How wonderful it had been to map them out with her help, to find out his own as she tried all sorts of crazy things with him. He always knew Emma Swan was the woman he was fated to spend the rest of his life with, and not only because of how good sex became as time went by.

Long ago, at some point down the road, she had become part of him.

"Emma…" he muttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he thrust even faster into her. "I'm gonna… fuck. _Fuck!_"

His free hand had grabbed hers, their fingers intertwining as he squeezed them, all the muscles of his body clenching and releasing as he came, his loud grunts mingling with her moans as his heart tried to burst through his chest.

"D-Don't," she stuttered, when he made to pull out from her. "Stay."

He complied, even though he knew that his erection wouldn't last much longer.

"Touch me," she whispered, with her eyes shut.

"Like this?" he asked, tickling her clit with the tip of his finger.

"Yeah, oh fuck Neal, yeah, don't stop."

He felt her juices flow as he sped up, his finger gliding across the slick bud as she panted, her muscles clenching and forcing him out of her slippery hole. Her knuckles were white as she grabbed the bed head with all the strength she could gather, and he felt her skin get hotter, as if she was about to set the whole room on fire.

He sincerely hoped that was not the case, though.

"Fuck!"

And then, he felt it. Obviously, so did she, because her eyes shot open when the bed started shaking, and when the dreamcatcher near the window fell to the ground they both realized that the tremors were actually much stronger than a local seismic wave.

"Neal, this has to stop," she muttered, still trying to catch her breath after her ground-shattering orgasm.

"Emma..."

"'Emma', what?" she snapped, with a frown. "Be quiet, listen."

From very far, he could hear car alarms going off somewhere down the road.

"You see? People can get hurt!"

"I-"

"My mind is made up," she said, making it clear that there would be no argument. "First thing tomorrow, I'm looking for help, and I know exactly who to look for," she turned her head to search for his eyes before speaking again. "Someone who knows magic very well."

"Emma..." he replied, his eyes piercing hers as he frowned. "Do you really think looking for Regina is a good idea?"

"Regina? What- I'm not talking about Regina, Neal."

It took a moment for him to get there. She couldn't be talking about the person he thought she was talking about… could she?

"Aw, hell no," he said, after the seriousness in her eyes answered his unasked question.

"Why not? You two have come a long way, your relationship is so much better now."

"Still, I don't... Emma, my father is not exactly wise when it comes to using magic moderately, if you know what I mean."

"I think you underestimate him."

"And I think you _over_estimate him, I-"

"Listen," she interrupted. "How about having this conversation after you unlock our handcuffs?"

He reached for the keys left over a pillow, and decided not to further the conversation by telling her how much he actually disliked the idea of asking his father for help in that particular case. If there were two topics he was not willing to discuss with the old man were magic and sex, especially now, that one was so intimately connected to the other!

"I still think we could-"

"Neal!"

"Fine!" he replied, as he fumbled with the keys. "Should we invite your father to be part of the meeting as well?"

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me you're embarrassed to talk to your father about sex!"

"This is not ab-"

His heart skipped a beat when the keys slipped from his hands to fall behind the bed.

"You didn't!" he heard his wife shriek, after letting out a blood-curling gasp. "Neal!"

"Calm down!"

"Calm down? _Calm down?_" she screamed. "I am kneeling on a bed that I'm currently handcuffed to!"

"Well, so am I."

"You have a free hand! Figure… it… _out._"

He cursed quietly under his breath. He had a free hand, true, but he had no angle. There was no way he would be able to reach those keys without breaking a limb.

"You see," he hissed between gritted teeth as he performed all sorts of acrobatic moves. "Now would be a good time to use your magic."

When he looked up, he saw her glaring daggers at him.

That was turning out to be a hell of an afternoon.

* * *

"And there he goes," announced a very calm and collected Dr. Whale, as he put down the binoculars to scribble something down. He was, after all, a man of science, and although the woman sitting by her side on the hill had been a little uncomfortable with how intent he had been in capturing all the details of the little performance unfolding before their eyes, he knew better. Bodily fluids and body parts were greatly entertaining, and if he was going to write about them, then he had to do them justice by providing as many details as possible.

"Did he get the keys?" asked Ruby, to busy with her crayons and drawing pad to raise her eyes to the Swan-Cassidys' window.

"Most probably" he replied, as he closed his notebook. "But from what I could see, I'll be getting a call from the hospital soon, so let's finish this already."

"I'm almost done with my sketch," she replied, smudging a few lines with a pleased smile on her lips.

"Good. Leroy?"

Next to her, a short man was staring at the sky with a distant look in his eyes.

_"Leroy?"_

"What?" the other man replied, finally waking up from his haze.

"Did you pick what you wanna do?" asked Whale.

"No. I'll get whatever."

"So you do the bondage part."

Leroy simply nodded, and his eyes shifted back to the clouds above them.

"Archie, will you pick the 69 or should I?"

"Yeah," replied the town's therapist, his voice as distant and dreamy as Leroy's eyes.

"Yeah what?"

"What?"

"Jesus!" Whale exclaimed, raising an eyebrow at the two men. "Nevermind."

His eyes were again on Ruby, who was deliberately hiding her drawing from him.

"Well guys," he announced at last, reaching a bottle of beer to have a swig before he stood up. "I think we've got ourselves plenty of material for our meeting tomorrow."

Nobody said a word.

"Same spot, same time," he went on, paying little notice to how the other members of the group seemed to be uninterested in his words. "Can I see your sketch?"

"Just a minute," Ruby replied, casting a sly glance towards him, before the thunderous laughter of the man to her right made her jump.

As she whipped her head around, she saw the reason for such gratuitous joy, burning between his friend's thumb and index finger.

"Leroy... Are you, are you _smoking weed?_"

"No," the man replied, coughing as he tried to hold back the smoke slowly coming out of his nostrils. "I'm not."

"Yes, you _are_!" she said, her eyes going wide as she snatched the cigarette from his hand. "Where did you get this? Archie?"

"Oh, don't look at me," Dr. Hopper replied. "I am not authorized to prescribe anything. Not even aspirin."

He cackled at his own joke, and Leroy followed suit.

"Are you stoned too?" Ruby asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's all Leroy's fault. I'm just inhaling the smoke."

"Where are your glasses?"

She saw Archie raise his eyes to hers with a puzzled expression on his face.

"I swear they were here a minute ago."

"Guys, seriously, how did you?"

"You are the one dating the doctor," said Leroy. "Ask him."

"Victor?"

He had very little time to dodge the inquiring glance his girlfriend cast towards him.

"You gave Leroy a prescription, but not to me?"

"You didn't ask for one," he muttered in response, fully aware it would trigger her fury.

"Did I have to?" she asked, her voice going up as her eyes lit up with a mixture of contempt and amusement.

"I have rheumatism," intervened Leroy, in an attempt to save Dr. Whale from Ruby's wrath now that he had let the cat out of the bag. "Pickaxes are a pain in the ass," he explained, with a shrug. "I mean, in the joints."

"_Joints_!" exclaimed Archie, a second before the two of them burst into laughter again.

"Look, I didn't give you one because people get idiot when they smoke it, ok?" the doctor hissed into Roby's ear. "Look at the two buffoons by your side."

"Maybe we could get idiot together..." she whispered in return, making sure her mouth was close enough to his neck to send shivers down his spine. "Wouldn't it be fun?"

"I can think of better things to do when we're together," he replied, his breath catching in his throat as the smell of her hair filled his nostrils.

"Just once."

"Ruby..."

"Please?"

And then, her hand was sliding up his thigh, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Do you wanna see my sketch?" she said, this time whispering into his ear and letting her teeth graze his earlobe.

"Sure…"

When his eyes fell on the drawing, he had to concede Ruby was a fantastic artist. Her rendition of the Swan-Cassidys' handcuffed sex was breathtaking, and she had been careful enough not to reveal much about the individuals' identities by changing their hair color and many of their features.

"You made her a brunette… And he is the one who's blond… Clever move," he said, studying each line with an interested smile.

"A blond man… Dark-haired woman," she said, her hand wandering up until it was resting on the fly of his pants. "Rings any bells?"

_Boom._

Instead of replying, he brought her lips to his, and the two of them crashed onto the grass while apparently trying to swallow each other's tongue.

"I feel like I'm the third wheel here," Leroy whimpered, trying to ignore the couple making out by his side.

"Wait..." asked Archie, his face still filled with amazement and confusion. "If you're the third wheel... what does that make me?"

"The fourth wheel, of course."

"So... we are a couple?"

"Are you gay?"

"I don't know!"

"Wait, hold on," said Leroy, holding up a hand. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"You see, that is the problem," Archie replied, pushing up an inexistent pair of glasses up his nose. "Was I cricket, or a man?"

"Before the curse?"

"Yes."

"I think you were a cricket..."

"But before that, I was a man."

"Were you?"

"I think," Archie frowned. "Wasn't I?"

"I don't know!"

"So, suppose that I was a man, who became a cricket, who became a man. If I am into crickets, what does that make me?"

"Crazy?"

The two of them burst into laughter not for the first time that day, feeling their sides were about to burst.

"But wait, maybe it qualifies as bestiality," said Leroy, trying to catch his breath. "Hey, Red…"

When he turned his head to look at the woman by his side, he realized she was no longer there.

Neither was Dr. Frankenstein.

"Maybe some other time, then," he said, shrugging carelessly before turning to look at Archie again. "So…"

Much to his bad luck, Dr. Hopper had passed out, his limbs sprawled like a lifeless puppet as he lay on the grass.

"Oh, great…"

The dwarf then picked up the binoculars, and wondered if he would, at least, get some other fresh ideas from the couple they had been spying.

"And now they have closed the window too," he complained, dropping the binoculars and crossing his arms with a frown. "Damn this town!"


End file.
